I know that look on her face. The look that screams, ‘I’m about to tumble down the rabbit hole’ where she stays for days and the only thing that perks her up is medication. Before we left Ohio, my mother had had bouts of absentmindedness. It has gotten worse over the past couple of years. My mom used to tell me stories about her career as a ballet dancer. She was nineteen when she met Dad and fell madly in love with him. The minute he proposed, she accepted and never looked back. I always had a feeling this wasn’t the truth. Especially when I’d find her pirouetting and singing, looking beautiful and untouchable and happy. Now, I can feel her slowly retreating back to the place she had been living in before we moved. I thought things would be better once we got here.
Elon plucks the ear buds from her ears then carefully places them on the table, making sure the buds are perfectly aligned to each other. Only then does she stand up and carry the bowl to the sink. She wraps her arms around Mom in a hug. Mom startles as if she’s waking up from a dream. She drops the cloth on the counter and turns to return my sister’s embrace.
“Oh my baby!” She shuts her eyes but not before a few tears escape. When she opens them again, they are back to their usual vibrant green. Clear. She pulls back and kisses Elon’s cheek. She waves Elise and me over and we huddle together.
This feels good. Perfect. I feel their warmth and love seep inside me and lock it in the place where memories live. These are the rare moments I treasure.
We break apart and I raise to my tip toes and reach for a mug inside the cupboards above me and then fill it with coffee from the pot. The skin on the back of my neck prickles and I look up to find mom staring at me. Her gaze darts to the counter and mine does the same.
“I’m over that, mom,” I say, eyeing the knife, glinting against the sun light spilling through the kitchen window.
She nods, but looks away without saying a word. I hate when people do that. It makes me feel as though I’m being judged for the things I did in the past.
Sighing, I take a seat on one of the chairs around the table and we talk about what we will be doing today. Thirty minutes later, I refill my mug and head out the door to survey the front yard in preparation of the flowers I’m planning on planting there.
I squint up at the cloudless June sky and fan my face with one hand. Oh God. The heat around here is just too much. It’s hardly ten o’clock, but it feels like it’s past midday. Strolling along the little white fence that separates our house and Cole’s, I notice a white ladder on the side goes directly to the roof outside my room. Maybe the previous owner had a thing for climbing through windows. I’ve never done that in my life so I’m left with images of forbidden, adventurous nights.
I sneak a look at the Holloway house. There’s no activity whatsoever. Maybe they have a thing for sleeping in until after midday.
Taking a sip from my cup, I scour for a clue as to which one is Cole’s room. I’m utterly fascinated by that boy. I have no idea where the interest is coming from. All I know is that his quiet intensity captivates me like nothing else ever has.
“Hey there!” a cheery voice greets me, pulling me away from studying the house where my current obsession resides.
I jolt upright and see a girl around my age on the front lawn of the house across the street. The Walkers as per the name on the mailbox. She tosses the long braid of hair over her shoulder. Her brown skin glows against the sunlight. She waves and grins wide. I wave back, smiling. Her disposition is infectious.
“I’m Megs!” she yells from across the street. “Great to meet you!”
Jesus. The girl will wake up the neighborhood.
She turns and talks to someone inside her house, and then tosses a braid over her shoulder again and walks toward me. I meet her in the middle, with our white little fence separating us.
“Eleanor. Nor. Whatever you want to call me.” I hold out my free hand toward her.
“Megan. But I prefer Megs.” She holds my gaze for a few heartbeats before shaking it. “You’re gonna give the boys a run for their money with that red hair of yours.” She winks at me causing a giggle to abruptly escape from my lips.
“The boys, huh?” I ask, my gaze automatically going to the Holloway’s house as though some kind of force is pulling me to it.
Megs chuckles. “So you’ve met the boys next door, yeah?” My cup is suddenly snatched from my hand.
“Tasty.” She smacks her lips together. “You and I will get along very well. There is this little cafe-book-nook that plays music from a jukebox I know you’ll just love and they serve really good coffee. You and me, yeah?”
Whoa. How did she do that without bursting a lung or something?
She hands me the cup.
“Are those real?” she asks, staring at my chest.
My cheeks heat up. I was a late bloomer, so when my boobs finally came in, they arrived with a bang. “Yeah. Want to give them a test drive?” I joke.
She laughs, then says, “Sure.” Her hands shoot forward without warning and latch on to my boobs. Before I can jump back, she’s squeezing them tentatively as if she’s choosing fruit at the market.
“Yep. Round and suckable.”
What? My cheeks heat up at her words. “What?”
“These are awesome. A guy could live on these alone. Mine are saggy tits.” She sighs. “I call dibs on yours if you ever get tired of them.”
I laugh. I just met this girl and she’s managed to make me laugh within five minutes of knowing her.
“So which one are you interested in?” she asks, nodding toward the Holloway house.